Page 9 of Filthy Elites

People are staring at me again. Most are curious, except the girl who spoke to Jason when I first arrived, who looks like she’s about to murder me.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“I want to show you something.”

I let him steer me down the hallway, and not once do I try to pull free from his grasp. I’m enjoying the connection too much, which is proof that I’m insane. Jason has all the markings of a psycho. Why am I not repelled by his proximity?

We enter a large empty room, and I have to suppress a gasp. It’s the music classroom. I’m flooded by emotions, both happy and bitter. I forget that Jason is there for a moment as I let go of his hand to walk farther in. My chest feels heavy, and I massage it with my fist, trying to ease the ache.

I turn to ask Jason why he brought me here, but he’s gone.

What in the world?I don’t understand the game he’s playing, but I don’t care to analyze his motives right now. I see a violin case on a desk and head straight for it. Against my parents’ wishes, I packed my violin only to discover that it never made it to California. They must have found it in my belongings and taken it out. I understand why they did it. I wouldn’t have been able not to play it otherwise. It doesn’t mean their decision didn’t leave a gaping hole in my chest.

I run my fingers over the smooth wooden case, and with shaking hands, I lift the lid. It’s a Benedicte FriedmannStradivariviolin. Like a junkie unable to contain herself, I remove the instrument and rest it on my shoulder. Before I know it, I’m in the middle of Vivaldi’sFour Seasons, which is the composition that got me into classical music.

My heart soars as I become lost in the sound. I feel alive again. I close my eyes for a moment, but when I pivot, they’re open, and I find Jason standing there, watching me with so much hatred in his eyes that it sucks the joy out of me.

A woman enters the room as I’m lowering the bow.

“Oh my God,” she says.

Jason turns to her, and the glower turns into surprise. The woman doesn’t acknowledge him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’ll put it back.”

“Oh, no. You can’t put it back. You must keep playing.”

Panic rises up my throat. I can’t play. If I do, he’ll find me.

I shake my head. “I… I can’t.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never had a student with such talent before.”

“Excuse me?” Jason butts in.

She glances at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jason. You’re very talented, of course, but her… she’s divine!”

The full-on hate returns to his eyes. His nostrils flare, and his jaw is locked so tightly, I’m afraid he’ll shatter his teeth. It looks like he’s about to explode.

“You must join my class. I insist,” the woman continues.

Thenois on the tip of my tongue, even though saying it will likely kill me a bit more. I shouldn’t have played the violin. I couldn’t play while in the hospital, and when I finally went home, I was too depressed to practice. Then I traveled to Triton Cove and discovered my violin was missing. But now that I’ve tasted the euphoria again, I can’t give it up. I don’t want to give it up. Practicing at school shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s participating in competitions that would put me in danger. Maybe that makes me too stupid to live, but what I have now isn’t much of a life. I need something to motivate me to keep going, to prevent my own darkness from consuming me whole.

“She can’t join,” Jason grits out.

I had already almost convinced myself that forgetting the violin forever was a fate too cruel to bear. But seeing how much he’s bothered by me joining the class is the push I need to do something reckless but ultimately right for me.

I watch him through narrowed eyes for a few seconds before I turn to the teacher. “It’ll be an honor to join your class.”

ChapterFive

Nicola/Isabelle

Jason leavesme alone the next day, and his absence is beginning to give me anxiety. He’s plotting something. That look of pure hatred he gave me was not normal. It should have terrified me, considering my past. But it somehow gave me strength. I’m not cowering in front of another asshole god.

It’s not until my first class with Mrs. Simpson, the music teacher, that I see him again. I had to give up a free period to join. He’s in this class. Sadly, so is his friend from the hallway on my first day, whose name, I’ve learned, is Sloane. Great.

“Good morning, everyone. I’d like you to meet Nicola Devlin. She’ll be joining our program.”

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